


Good Times In This Life

by justtoarguewithyou



Series: You Showed Me Love [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:00:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28274256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justtoarguewithyou/pseuds/justtoarguewithyou
Summary: More poems, a fight, a baby.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: You Showed Me Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2071251
Kudos: 29





	Good Times In This Life

Remus wakes up the next morning to several text messages:

_I found the star poem online. I thought it was very beautiful. I’ve read a few more of her poems._

_I also found another poet: Billy Collins. Do you love him? I think I might love him now._

_I’ve never been one for poetry, Remus, but now it just makes me think of you. What have you done?_

_I want to read you a Billy Collins poem I found. Maybe when we see each other next, we can take turns?_

_I’m just typing all these things out because I can’t sleep. I’ve thought of you all night. I won’t be offended if you were able to sleep._

_I hope you slept. I would write you an email if I had yours._

_Would you eat breakfast again with me soon? I know that I am supposed to be playing coy, or hard to get, or whatever bullshit games people play nowadays. But I am too old for that. And I like you, Remus._

_God, I like you._

_There’s honesty for you._

Sirius had sent his last message at 4:38 a.m. Remus hopes Sirius had slept. He puts his phone into the drawer of his bedside table. He can’t reply now.

"I have to work," he tells himself. He has chapters due at the end of the week. If he can get through at least three hours of work, he can text back.

That is the bargain he makes with himself.

Three hours later, and Remus is once again rereading what he has written. He can’t concentrate. He slips in and out of tenses, his subjects and verbs do not agree, and all he can think about are grey eyes, and a shy smile. Those lips he wants to kiss and kiss. Over and over again, until they have to pull apart to breathe.

Remus laughs at himself. He is 34, not 17.

“Come on, Remus. Concentrate.”

He takes a lunch break, and goes to check his phone. Just a new message from Pete, wondering if they can go out for drinks on Wednesday. He replies “Sure” and puts his phone back in the drawer.

He writes for another two hours and comes back to the drawer. He’s done for the day.

 _Sorry for the absurd (amount of) messages_ , Sirius has texted. Remus looks at the time stamp. It’s only been two minutes.

**I take it you slept?**

_Yes. I got in my 8 hours._

**Which Billy Collins poem? I love him, by the way. Intensely.**

_Another Reason I Don’t Keep a Gun in the House._

**Ah, a classic.**

_Do you have plans for dinner?_

**No**.

_Can I take you out? I’m dying to see you again._

Remus smiles at the phone.

**Yes. I’m glad I’m not the only one.**

The phone rings. It’s Sirius.

“Can I come see you now? I can be there in 20 minutes.”

“Yes, I’m home,” Remus says, as if Sirius coming over is the simplest, most obvious thing in the world. “Do you remember where I live?”

“I do,” Sirius says, and Remus would swear on a stack of Bibles that he can hear Sirius’ smile through the phone. “On my way.”

Sirius hangs up, and Remus goes to brush his teeth, as he’s been drinking nothing but coffee all day. He tidies up a little, though the apartment will always be piles of various things, papers, and notes and drafts. Remus has tried to be neat. He’s tried to organize, and only keep things that make him happy. But what makes him happy is piles. Piles of journals, and books and piles of scrap paper. He takes a laundry basket from his hall closet and sweeps into it the random sweaters and empty coffee mugs, and the tape dispenser he’d taken out, and the other odds and ends that he will sort through later. But for now, he just needs his place to look presentable.

Just in case.

Too soon he hears Sirius’s motorcycle outside. It sounds different from Caradoc’s bike. But even though they’ve only known each other a day, Remus already knows that Sirius is not like Caradoc. Remus takes a deep breath to calm his nervous jitters and goes downstairs to let Sirius in.

Sirius is bounding up the steps, helmet in hand, and he smiles at Remus as if Remus were an ice cream cone, and Sirius a toddler.

“Hello,” Remus says, the corners of his mouth hitching up. It is taking a considerable amount of Remus’s will not to break into a grin.

In a graceful series of movements, Sirius puts down his helmet, and puts one hand behind Remus’ head, and the other on the small of Remus’ back, and he presses a fervent kiss to Remus’ lips. And Remus can feel his knees weaken, and his lips become instantly pliant.

“Hello,” Sirius says.

They press their foreheads together, and Remus smiles, and Sirius smiles. And they kiss again, more languidly this time, and Remus sighs as they break apart.

“Have you eaten?” Sirius asks, pressing a little kiss to Remus’ lips after each word. Remus grins.

“No, are you hungry?”

“Yes. We better eat something, because if I come up, I can’t promise to stop kissing you.”

Remus chuckles. “I don’t think I could promise that either.”

Sirius grins and takes Remus’ hand as they walk toward the bike. “Do you like Italian?”

“Love it.”

Sirius nods, and hands Remus his extra helmet, and they drive away. Sirius takes him to a small Italian restaurant that Remus had never been to. Just like at the market, an older woman calls Sirius’ name, and they hug, and speak in Italian to each other, and Sirius gives Remus the shy smile again, when introducing Eloisa to Remus.

“You sit, I will feed you,” Eloisa says decidedly, and hustles them to a booth in the back. She brings them each a little glass of spumante, and some antipasto.

Sirius smiles over his wine, and Remus eats an olive.

“It’s such a relief to see you,” Sirius says. “To not have to wait the obligatory amount of days, or whatever.”

Remus smiles. He knows.

“Can I just say that I like you very much, too?” Remus says. “I don’t want to be coy either. I don’t want to pretend that I don’t like you, or that I’m just interested enough.”

“Good,” Sirius says, and he’s relieved that they’re on the same page.

“Tell me about Amelia and Eloisa, and your affinity for motherly ladies,” Remus says.

Sirius laughs. “I didn’t have grandparents growing up, and my mother…isn’t…very motherly,” he says, with a slight edge to his voice.

“Fair enough,” Remus says, and leaves the subject alone.

And they spend the evening making their way through the various courses that Eloisa brings them. This is a special dinner, Sirius had told Eloisa. And Eloisa brings them a great variety of things, a full Italian cena, so that Sirius can spend as much time as possible with Remus. They make their way comfortably through each course, and when they get to the grappa, Remus feels like he’s known Sirius for months, and not two days.

Through dinner, they speak of their relationships: with their parents, their siblings (or lack thereof, in Remus’s case), with their friends.

Remus learns that Sirius doesn’t have relationships with his parents anymore. He tried. But after years of therapy, and one minor identity crisis, he decided to stop trying.

“I woke up very drunk and nearly naked in the middle of the street in front of my place,” Sirius said with a laugh. “To this day, I don’t know how I got home. My best friend James and my brother Regulus found me before anyone else did, so I didn’t have to worry about public indecency or public drunkenness charges. But that’s the day I decided to quit working for my father.”

After that, Sirius soon after stopped talking to his parents altogether. “But Regulus and I get along much better now,” Sirius adds. “I think we’re both happier living outside of our parents’ home, and working for ourselves. We both still speculate, so we can pursue our own projects. Regulus started tattooing. I’m also doing art. Do you have tattoos?”

“I’m not disclosing that information yet,” Remus says a little primly.

“Ah, mysterious.”

Remus shrugs. “You said art. What does that mean?”

“You’re not the only one with secrets.”

Remus laughs. “Fair.”

Odds are Remus has seen Sirius’ work, because everyone has seen it—it’s all over the internet.

Remus tells Sirius more about his last breakup, and how he was fairly certain that he would spend the rest of his life with Caradoc, but he woke up one day and realized they were just comfortable with one another, they had just liked the routine associated with having someone, and it really didn’t matter if it was the other person.

“It could’ve been anyone,” Remus says. “I had the uncomfortable feeling that we weren’t really in love. Just good friends, just…comfortable.” He wrinkles his nose.

Sirius doesn’t talk about his romantic relationships yet. Instead, he tells Remus about his best friend James.

“We’ve known each other since we were kids,” Sirius says. “I feel like we’re pieces of a puzzle that fit together just so.” Remus nods. “It’s hard sometimes to have a friend like that,” Sirius says. “Because when you’ve been friends for so long, you have a short-hand, and a sort of telepathy, and my last partner was jealous, and couldn’t stand to be around us for long.”

“I can imagine how hard that would be, for both of you,” Remus says empathetically.

He knows he’s never had that with anyone. He loves Pete very much. But they’ve never approached telepathy. What Sirius speaks of feels more intimate. Remus can see how it would be hard for a partner to feel outside of that.

After dinner, Sirius drives Remus home. And Sirius says he’d better not go up, because there’s a real danger that he’ll stay.

“There’s a real danger that I would ask you to stay,” Remus says. They smile, and kiss good night, and Sirius drives home, and Remus goes upstairs to write a napkin poem, and grind out a few chapters while he feels happy and sated.

* * *

Sirius and Remus have been dating for five months, and things are going so well.

It’s against Remus’ nature to take that in stride, so maybe when the fight happens, Remus had already prepared for the worst, and let it spiral a little.

Remus is leaving a meeting with his agent. They’ve been friends for five years. Tom Riddle is a married straight man, whose wife, Bella, is a total kook—she looks just like Helena Bonham Carter, down to the weird wardrobe. And she loves crystals. Remus is gay, and when they’d met, he’d been a practically married to Caradoc. But there’s always been a real rapport and warmth between them. So if, after their meeting, they’re standing a little too close on the sidewalk outside Tom’s office, like Sirius accuses Remus of later, it’s because they’re friends, and have been for a long time.

Tom is inviting Remus for a drink, and Remus decides to accept. It had been a good day, and Tom had shared some incredible news: Remus’ first novel has been optioned by a movie production company. Because Remus retained the movie rights, he has all manner of possibility open to him, including writing his own screenplay. This is an exciting prospect, and something he’s thought about, but never done. It would be a complete learning curve, but Tom thinks Remus is up for the challenge.

Remus is elated, and about to text Sirius, when Sirius pulls up on his motorcycle. 

“Hey! I was just about to text you!” Remus says with a grin.

Sirius parks, and saunters over, and looks Tom over appraisingly. There’s something innately snooty about Sirius’ attitude as he says hello, and introduces himself, not waiting for Remus to introduce them.

Remus is a little taken aback, but he decides to say nothing. He’s in a good mood, and he will sort this out later privately. He’s not even sure what’s happening. He’s not even sure it’s an issue.

But it’s definitely an issue. Sirius has an irascible side that had yet to make its presence known over the past 20 weeks. It makes itself known now. Sirius is a little prickly and little rude, and Remus is…not embarrassed exactly, but wary.

Concerned.

They walk to a bar down the street, and Tom orders champagne, and appetizers for the table. The three of them make small talk, and Remus feels vaguely like he’s a tree being pissed on by two rival dogs.

Tom and Sirius are comparing resumes, namedropping, and just generally oozing male insecurity all over the table.

Remus shares his news with Sirius, as a way to cut the tension. And he thinks they’re ok, because Sirius is his warm, usual self for a few minutes.

“That’s so exciting!” he says, squeezing Remus’ hand. “Do you want to write the screenplay? I have a friend who might be able to share some of her knowledge if you’re interested.”

“Yeah, that would be really good,” Remus says, and he leans into Sirius’ shoulder, and smiles at him.

Sirius tells them about his friend Marlene McKinnon, who went to The London Film School, and recently won a Filmmakers Alliance Award for short film. Tom gives an approving nod, and then excuses himself to the restroom.

“Sirius, are you ok?” Remus asks.

“Yeah, sure,” he says. “I was just surprised to see you. I was coming from seeing my brother.”

Remus thinks maybe he understands, and lets it go. They get through the rest of happy hour without too much trouble, though Sirius makes a couple of jokes that border on rude, and saying something flippant about Tom’s alma mater. Tom says something equally flippant back, and Remus is glad he went to a state school, and doesn’t have to engage in petty rivalries.

As they’re saying goodnight, Tom leans in to hug Remus, which is the usual way they part. Tom and Sirius shake hands.

“Firm handshake,” Tom says, rubbing his knuckles.

“Good night,” Sirius says, obviously dismissing Tom. Tom raises his eyebrows, and nods at Remus and calls a cab.

Sirius and Remus walk to the bike, and Sirius asks if he can come over.

“Okay, but I think we’re going to have to talk about this,” Remus says. Sirius grimaces, and agrees, and they drive to Remus’ apartment.

They go upstairs, and Remus is hanging up his jacket when Sirius begins to explain. 

“I saw Regulus, which put me in a mood, and then I saw you, and you looked so friendly with Tom, and I just…it made me feel a little jealous, to be honest.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be jealous,” Remus says, frowning.

“You were just standing so close, and he had his hand on your arm, and I…”

“Well, he’s my agent, and my friend, and even if he wasn’t those things, I’m with you, so I’m not sure what the problem is.” “It just looked like…”

And Remus interrupts. “No, Sirius. It doesn’t matter what it looked like, because you only saw two seconds of what it looked like before you decided not to trust me. And I’ve done nothing to deserve that.”

Sirius doesn’t say anything. “Besides, I think I’ve been pretty understanding about you and your friends.”

“Are you talking about James?”

“Sirius. The last time we were over, he sat in your lap for 15 minutes and the two of you giggled and whispered together like teenage girls while Lily and I were in the kitchen getting the wine and charcuterie platter together. And during the two hours that we were at their house, you talked more to him than you did to me.”

“I’ve told you about this already,” Sirius’ voice adopting a tone, a Black family trait, that meant this subject isn’t up for discussion. But Remus hasn’t met Regulus outside of polite dinners in restaurants, and this is Sirius’ first time using that tone. So Remus doesn’t know how thin the ice is here.

“So you did. And I’m not saying it bothered me. It really didn’t. I like James, and I like Lily. But I’m saying that I put up with all that, multiple times, and have never accused you of anything. And you saw me once, for ten seconds on the street, and jumped to conclusions.” Later, Sirius will wish had stopped here, and just apologized. But he doesn’t. Instead, he brings up Caradoc, whom he’d met the week before.

“Put up with?” Sirius growls.

Remus raises his eyebrows.

“Well, anyway, I might not have jumped to conclusions if you hadn’t behaved exactly the same way when I met Caradoc.”

“What are you implying?”

“You just seem to be very intimate with these people is all,” Sirius says with a shrug.

“Well. One is my agent, and one is my ex-boyfriend who I lived with for four years. So yes. I am very close to these people.” Remus crosses his arms, his eyes narrowing. This is their first real fight. So Sirius does not know that this is Stubborn Remus making his debut. “I still don’t see why you’re the one who’s upset. You’re the one who was rude to my friend, and just accused me of…whatever it is you’re accusing me of.”

Sirius sighs. “Remus, I’m going to go before I say something I regret.”

“You don’t regret what you’ve said already?”

Sirius doesn’t say anything; he just zips his jacket back up, and leaves.

Remus looks at the blank space Sirius has left behind, and huffs. He can hear Sirius’ bike rev off into the night, and he flips through his CDS—being old enough to have lived through CDS, digital music, and the resurgence of vinyl—and puts on a TOOL CD into the player of his stereo and begins to angrily clean the apartment. Caradoc had left this particular CD behind. He’d meant to send it back, but for now he’s glad he didn’t because it’s loud and moody, Remus needs the noise.

After 20 minutes, Remus’ black cloud of irritation breaks and he sits on his couch and cries.

He should be happy. He just got life-changing news. His boyfriend should be pleased and not starting pissing contests with his agent.

Remus dries his eyes with the back of his hand, and texts Peter.

Peter comes over to take Remus out to celebrate the good news, and they drink and the night gets a little better. Peter doesn’t question why Sirius isn’t there, and Remus could kiss him for that.

Several drunken hours later, Peter helps Remus into the apartment. Peter texts his wife that he’s going to stay with Remus, and Remus is just filled with infinite love for his best friend.

“You’re a good friend, Peter,” Remus slurs. “The best friend.”

“You're my best friend, too. Good night, Remus.” Peter says, putting Remus to bed, and goes off to sleep on the couch. 

* * *

A week later and Remus still hasn’t heard from Sirius.

Since he wasn’t the one to do anything wrong, he doesn’t text first. He knows this is juvenile and wishes he weren’t behaving like this.

But frankly, fuck being the bigger person, Stubborn Remus thinks.

He wasn’t the one who started a fight and fucked off for a week. He reads and writes moody poems and gets through his chapters. His bathroom and kitchen have never been cleaner. He goes to the gym and lifts progressively heavier and heavier weights, hoping to tire himself out. He climbs endless flights of stairs on the stair machine. As he climbs he thinks of Audre Lorde:

There are so many roots to the tree of anger  
that sometimes the branches shatter  
before they bear.

Remus groans, and goes home, where he flops onto his couch, still sweaty, and gets a text from Sirius’ friend Marlene, introducing herself to him.

Hi! This is Marlene McKinnon! I got your number from Sirius Black. He said you might be working on a screenplay soon. Lunch today?

Remus’ stomach jolts to see Sirius’ name, but he answers Marlene right away.

**Lunch today would be great. This is potentially my first screenplay. My first book was optioned for a film, and since I own the rights still, everything is a possibility.**

Wow! That is exciting! I’ll text you the address of this new place I want to try. Do you like dim sum?

**Love it.**

Great! See you at noon?

**Yes. Thanks, Marlene.**

Remus decides he’s going to like Marlene, with her exclamation points and her decisive lunch plans. He takes a shower and puts on nicer clothes than he usually wears to write at home in.

Marlene McKinnon is, without question, a beautiful woman. She walks up to Remus as though they've already met, and opts to hug him, rather than shake his hand.

"Sirius has told me a lot about you," Marlene says.

Remus smiles, and they are seated. While they look through the menu, Remus thinks that if Marlene weren’t five-feet, five-inches tall, she might model. Hell. Maybe she does.

 _What do I know about models_ , Remus thinks. He guesses you don’t have to be five-foot-ten to model earrings, or lip balm, or whatever. He idly thinks that Sirius has some very beautiful friends. James and Lily had looked out of a catalogue.

After Marlene chooses some dumplings for them off the carts, Marlene tells Remus about her short film, and how much trouble she’d had finding funding.

“After months of listening to me struggle, Sirius put up the money to produce it,” Marlene said, drinking her tea.

“That was generous of him,” Remus says in an even tone. He hasn’t said anything about their fight, or Sirius’ frosty silence.

“Sirius is a good person. An absolute arse sometimes, but generally good,” Marlene says, as though she might know a little something.

Remus just shrugs. He’s not sure he wants to spill his guts in front of Marlene yet. He barely knows her.

So instead, he talks about the book, and Marlene is understanding of the absolute struggle it had been to write it in the first place. Remus had worked at all sorts of jobs, the worst of which was in a phone bank for credit card complaints, while he went home at night to write. He’s sent his book out himself a few times before finally deciding to find an agent. He’d been through a couple of people who managed to get him published in some small anthologies, before he met Tom.

“Tom changed my life,” Remus said.

“Good agents will do that. I don’t know where I’d be without mine,” Marlene nods. “God bless Gellert Grindelwald!”

She raises her glass in praise, and Remus clinks his own to hers. They laugh, and drink to their agents.

After lunch, Remus pulls out a copy of his book to give to Marlene, and they make plans to meet up again after she’s read it.

“It shouldn’t take too long,” Marlene says, eyeing the 500-page book. “I’m between projects right now, so this is actually perfect.”

“Thanks so much for agreeing to help,” Remus says. "I'm really excited about this."

"Anything for someone so important to Sirius,” Marlene says.

Remus just smiles blandly. “Right.”

Marlene lends him some books on screenplay writing, and they make plans to meet up again the next Saturday.

“Maybe we can all go to lunch, and you can meet my partner Dorcas,” Marlene says.

“Yeah, maybe,” Remus says noncommittally.

He goes home, and knows it would be so easy to just text: I met Marlene today. Thanks for giving her my number.

But he doesn’t. Their fight wasn’t his fault, and he can feel the Stubbornness refusing to budge. Remus groans into a pillow.

“Just be an adult,” he says to himself out loud. “You both said you wanted to be adults, who communicated openly and honestly…”

But Stubbornness wins out, and he begins to read the book Marlene has lent him. After reading for a few hours, he falls asleep on the sofa. He wakes up to the phone ringing.

It’s James Potter. Remus rolls his eyes, and takes a deep breath.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Remus! It’s James. Lily and I wanted to invite you and Sirius over for lunch tomorrow.”

“Oh, thanks for the invite, but I had plans with my friend Peter and his wife Mary tomorrow,” he lies quickly. Great. Now he has to impose on Peter and Mary.

“You can bring them along. The more the merrier,” James presses.

“Let me call Peter, and I’ll let you know,” Remus says, refusing to be pressed into a lunch by his boyfriend’s best friend before his own boyfriend has apologized.

“Oh, all right,” James says, slightly taken aback. “Let me know as soon as you can so Lily knows what to cook, ok?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll call right back.” Remus sighs.

He should call Peter. He should text Sirius. _No,_ the little petulant devil on his shoulder whispers, _Sirius should text you_ … Remus calls Peter.

“Hey. James wants us all over for lunch tomorrow.”

“Oh, Sirius has apologized then?” Peter asks.

Remus had told Peter the story over coffee in the morning after when they’d both woken up hungover. Mary had come over to cook for them, knowing that Remus never has food in the house. She had brought eggs, and bacon, and a soft, soft loaf of bread fresh from the bakery, and butter, and Remus could’ve kissed her.

Really, he loves his friends so much.

“No.”

“Oh. So, we’re not going, right?”

“Is that childish?”

“I don’t know. I’m a 34-year-old guy who still lives with his mother. I collect vintage toys and sell them on Ebay.”

Remus laughs. Peter may be self-deprecating, but he’s made a tidy sum selling vintage toys. He started out as a hobby collector, but he came into a cache of unopened Star Wars toys that he bought for a song as part of a lot of inventory that came from a foreclosed antiques business. He sold the toys for an astronomical amount. With some careful investment, Peter decided to work part-time at his insurance job, and sell toys part-time.

“He’s enjoying himself, and that’s what matters,” Peter’s wife, Mary had said, sainted kindergarten teacher that she is.

They live with Peter’s mother because Mary likes Peter’s mother, and she’d agreed that their living all together would be good for all of them—Peter’s father had died unexpectedly of a heart attack three years before, and Peter’s mother was lamenting being alone, and had been thinking of selling the house. Peter loves his childhood home. A brownstone that he couldn’t afford otherwise. He and Mary spent what they would’ve spent on rent renovating and updating the house. Peter’s mother isn’t alone, and she worries less, and has started to make friends. It’s a good situation and everyone is happy.

“Tell them my mother has already planned on having you over,” Peter suggests.

“That sounds plausible. Tell your mother and Mary that I can’t cook, but I’ll bring over whatever takeout they want for being my excuse to continue avoiding my boyfriend.”

Peter laughs, and yells the news to his mother and Mary. Mary yells that she’ll text the order.

“You tell that boy he needs to apologize,” Peter’s mother yells.

Remus laughs, and they hang up. He then calls James, and regretfully declines lunch.

* * *

James hangs up, and looks at Sirius, who is officially Sulky.

“Looks like you’re definitely going to have to apologize.” James says.

“I told you so,” Lily says from the other room. She’s working on converting a room in their house into a nursery. Marlene is helping her pack away their things, and build a crib.

The day after Sirius’ disastrous date with Remus, Lily had taken a pregnancy test. It was positive. She had cried for an hour, not knowing what it would mean for her career, before she realized she really wants this baby.

James came from a wealthy family, and had more than enough money to support them both. But Lily worked because she wanted to, and she’d always wanted to keep a little bit of her independence, since she and James had married so young. They’d gotten married the day after their high school graduation, unbeknownst to either of their parents. When their families had found out, it was chaotic, to say the least. James’ parents had pushed for an annulment, and Lily’s parents had insisted she go to college no matter what happened. Her mother had taken her to the doctor to discuss birth control the next Monday.

They’d survived college, which hadn’t been as easy as either of them expected, and there were a few months there where Lily was sure they were going to divorce. But they were strong, and now they were expecting their first child.

Their families are over the moon. James’ mother had sent over a crib and an heirloom rocking chair the day after they got the news.

Marlene pokes her head from around the corner and says “I can’t believe you haven’t apologized yet,” for what seems like the 17th time. They’d already discussed Marlene and Remus’ lunch. Marlene disclosed Remus hadn’t seemed angry, but was noncommittal about meeting up, and now he’d refused James’ invite.

Sirius groans. He’s had a hell of a week, shame-spiraling into insomnia and regret. He knew he should apologize. He’d already talked it out with his therapist.

Just then, Regulus walks in with pizzas.

“So, has Sirius apologized yet?” he asks.

His brother throws a pillow at his head, and Sirius pulls out his phone to finally text Remus.

 _Hi_ , he sends, thinking he’ll test the waters. The little dots appear and disappear, and they eat, and Remus hasn’t answered him.

Sirius keeps checking his phone while they watch a movie. No reply.

It’s about 9 p.m. when Sirius gets a text.

**Hi. Can you come over? I don’t want to do this over the phone.**

_Sure. See you in 20?_

**K.**

K. Sirius’ least favorite response in the history of text responses.

He takes his leave, and James hugs him, and Regulus tells him to text him after, and that he can come stay the night if he needs to. Sirius nods, and hugs Lily and Marlene, and leaves. He can feel the anxiety welling up in his stomach. He does the breathing exercises the therapist taught him so the anxiety doesn’t overwhelm him.

He drives over to Remus’ building, and takes a few deep breaths before hitting the buzzer.

The door opens, and Sirius walks slowly to Remus’ door. He knocks.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” Remus says, waving Sirius inside.

Sirius looks like a kicked puppy. Remus tells him so.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry I was an asshole to your friend, and ruined your big night.”

Remus sighs. There. Exactly what he wanted.

“Why was that so hard?” Remus whispers, gathering Sirius to him. Sirius melts in Remus’ arms and lets out a long breath.

“I don’t know,” he says, leaning into the hug. “I just felt like an idiot. And the longer I felt like an idiot, the more I was sure I couldn’t fix it.”

They hug for a long moment.

“Ok. Let’s not do that again,” Remus says, absolving himself for being stubborn and not talking to Sirius himself.

“Can I stay?”

“Yeah,” Remus says, pulling him toward the bedroom. “I think you’d better.”

They get ready for bed, and Sirius tucks himself into Remus’ side and just holds him so close.

“I love you,” Sirius says.

“I love you, too.”

It’s the first time they’ve said it. Remus isn’t too sure he likes that it happened after a fight. He sighs.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just...that’s the first time you’ve said that.”

“And we were fighting. I’m sorry.”

Remus makes a noise at the back of his throat, like he’s laughing, and Sirius looks up at him.

“I was just thinking that,” Remus explains.

“Can I make you breakfast and buy you flowers and say I love you for the first time again?”

“That would be nice,” Remus says.

They kiss until they fall asleep, the both of them feeling too tender for more.

The morning is another story. They don’t get out of bed until they absolutely have to. And they both use the word “love” liberally.

Sirius goes with Remus to Peter’s for lunch, and Peter smiles and thinks finally. Sirius likes Peter and his mom, and even Mary, though she was a little frosty to him upon arrival. Sirius wins them over by having brought them flowers, and canolli from Eloisa’s restaurant.

Peter shows Sirius his toy collection.

“I have a project I need to source some things for,” Sirius says. “Do you think you can help me?”

“Yeah, of course,” Peter says, and gets his notebook to write down what Sirius wants, and how many he needs.

A few months later, Remus gets a news alert on his phone about an art piece traveling around the city by a famous anonymous graffiti artist. The truck is a part of several art pieces that have popped up during the last few days. The toys look similar to what Sirius had asked Peter about.

Remus asks Sirius about it, and Sirius just says, “Huh. That _is_ weird.”

And they leave it at that.

* * *

Remus wakes up to Sirius’ arm around his waist, his breath soft on his neck.

For Sirius’ sake, Remus has changed out his cotton pillow cases for satin pillow cases.

Sirius is very vain about his hair, which he is letting grow out. It’s a weird and shaggy length, growing out from his undercut. But Remus likes to run his fingers through it. He sort of misses the short stubbly scruff, but he’s pretty sure Sirius is going to be irresistible with a headful of long hair.

Sirius brought over the pillow cases. “If we don’t use these, I’ll have to put my hair up. That means there’s no hair pulling, or secret spaces, or poems to be written about the way my hair falls behind me, black rivulets leading you home,” Sirius had teased.

Because Remus had written that poem. Sirius had found it on the back of a grocery list as he was sorting their daily detritus into recycling, composting, and trash. Sirius had kept it, along with the dozens of others he found scribbled on whatever was handiest at the time. Remus smiles, remembering that day, and so many other days.

It had been nearly a year since Sirius had invited him to breakfast, and they ended up spending the whole day together. It’s been six months since their first fight.

There have been other fights. But neither of them has allowed the other to be Stubborn or Sulky. They’ve learned that lesson.

Remus has worked with Marlene on his script, and the producers liked it, and there is a flurry of funding meetings, and the film is greenlit. Marlene gets a writing credit. Remus had been adamant about that. They’ve begun casting, and It looks like they will have their first feature film within a year or so.

They go out to dinner, and then dancing to celebrate the good news. Dorcas and Marlene, and Remus and Sirius. Peter had come with Mary; and James and Lily had come to dinner, and danced a little, but didn’t stay too long because Lily got tired so easily. The baby is well on his way.

They’d taken to calling the baby Harry. The plainest name Lily could think of. No antiquated Latin names for her, thank you.

Sirius teases her and calls the baby Saturnino. Which is both antiquated, and in Spanish. He nicknames the baby Nino, and that is what everyone calls him behind Lily’s back.

Mary and Lily talk about pregnancy and Dorcas listens in. Peter’s mother has baby fever, and has been asking when they’re going to start a family.

Maybe Dorcas does, too. But she’s waiting to see how this movie business pans out before she has The Talk with Marlene.

After sharing a cab at 2 a.m., Sirius bundles Remus in the bed, and goes to take a shower. He can’t sleep if he’s sweaty.

Remus gets up and joins him, standing under the water with his eyes closed.

“Move in with me,” Sirius says.

“What?” Remus says, opening his eyes.

“Move in with me.”

“The shower is definitely nicer at your place.”

“And I want you to live with me.”

Remus is fully awake now. Suddenly practically sober. “Really?”

“Yes.” Sirius is rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. It’s running down his face, and his eyes are squinted open, and he’s grinning. “Move in. Live with me.”

Remus is smiling. “Are you sure? It means all my books and notes and paper scraps everywhere.”

“Yes. And my weird hours, and strange friends, and sketch books and pencil shavings.”

“This is a big deal.”

“Not really. Maybe?” Sirius says, trading places with Remus, who is rinsing the bar soap out of his hair. Sirius grimaces. He’s really tried to get Remus to care about hair product. But Remus refuses. Remus turns off the water, and towels dry. Sirius dries off, and squeezes the water out of his hair with his hands and decides to go for broke. He puts in a hair mask that he will have to rinse out in 20 minutes. He has 20 minutes to convince Remus that this is a good idea.

“Do you not think this is a good idea?”

Remus just shrugs, and Sirius gets the beginnings of a pout.

“No, no. No sulking,” Remus says, kissing the corners of his mouth. “You want to put some of that in my hair?”

“Yeah,” Sirius murmurs, and Remus relishes Sirius’ fingers in his hair, rubbing his scalp. He’s so gentle. And this stuff does smell good.

It’s a peace offering.

Remus thinks masks are a waste of time, but he does notice afterward that his hair is bouncy and more manageable. Sirius has convinced him to grow his hair out, too. His hair curls past his collar for the first time in his life.

He secretly likes it. He not-so-secretly loves Sirius.

Sirius sighs, and says, “Remus, I want to live with you. I want to take care of you, and your hair, and make you coffee in the morning, and make sure you drink water during the day, and take you to eat with all my grandmothers across the city, and collect your poems when they’re scattered all around the house. And I want to go to the gym with you every day just to watch you walk on the stair machine.”

Sirius grabs Remus’ ass in both hands to emphasize his point. Remus grins and closes his eyes, and puts his forehead to Sirius’ forehead.

“Okay.”

Sirius grins, and says, “Okay.”

* * *

Two months later, Remus’ lease is up, and Peter and James are helping move Remus’ things into the little van he rented.

He sold most of his furniture, as Sirius’ things are nicer. He keeps his desk, though.

Sirius teases him about the number of books he owns.

Lily wasn’t due for another two weeks. And while James is helping Remus move, Lily’s water breaks.

The guys pile into the van with Sirius and James in the back frantically looking up the directions on their phones, while Remus sits in the passenger seat, calming directing Peter as he drives. Peter uses his turning signals, and stops for red lights, though James is yelling at Peter to just drive, as though it were a bank heist and not a baby.

When they arrive, Sirius and James roll out of the van, not quite waiting for the van to park, and Remus sighs, and follows them, just in case they, too, need to be admitted. Peter goes to park the van.

Lily is in her room and Marlene and Dorcas are with her. Lily’s contractions aren’t that close together, because this is real life and not a movie.

From there, it’s just “hurry up and wait,” and the group orders take out, which Regulus picks up and brings by, and they all sit around and scroll through their phones, because Lily’s in labor for nearly 16 hours. James’ hip and shoulder hurts, and Sirius’ knees and palms are scraped and scabbed from the concrete, and Remus gets them pain meds from the hospital drug store. James falls asleep in a chair in Lily’s room, and Mary brings dinner, and takes Peter home. Remus takes Sirius home not too long after, and they leave the moving van in Sirius’ garage, and sleep for a few hours before James texts them that Harry is really on his way this time. Sirius drives them back to the hospital on his motorbike, but only after Remus has made him swear to obey the speed limit.

“I’m warning you, Black,” he says.

“Or what?”

“Fuck around and find out,” Remus says, his eyes narrow. Sirius laughs, but he knows better than to cross Remus when he’s gone all “bad cop in an action movie.”

They arrive without incident, and take up their familiar seats in the waiting room. Harry takes his sweet time. He’s born an hour later, 9 pounds and 12 ounces, 23 inches long.

Sirius compares him to a Butterball turkey, and introduces himself as his godfather.

“Hello Nino,” he whispers, and Harry smiles. Or maybe it’s just gas.

Remus takes so many photos with his phone, and Lily is exhausted, and starving. Regulus comes with the cheeseburger she’s requested, as well fries and onion rings, and one of everything on the menu. Lily hasn’t had a Coke in months.

She drinks one now, and burps an ungodly burp. James looks like he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life. And maybe he hasn’t.

Marlene and Dorcas come, and Peter and Mary, and Peter’s mother, who coos over Harry for an hour.

The Potters go home two days later, and Sirius sets up their refrigerator and freezer with all kinds of food, and all their friends take a shift to make sure laundry gets done, and James and Lily get to take a nap or a shower. Mary comes to cook, and brings Peter’s mother, whose only job is to hold the baby. For two weeks, Remus sees more of Sirius at the Potter’s house than he does at home.

Remus spends his time getting set up, and putting up photos and his art prints, so it looks like he lives there, too.

Remus is reading on the couch when Sirius comes in, exhausted. Sirius flops onto the couch.

“I bet you haven’t slept in a couple days, huh?” Remus asks.

“I’ve had naps,” Sirius says, looking like his last nap was several hours before.

“Come on,” Remus says, pulling Sirius up off the couch before he can fall asleep. His eyes are already closing. Sirius goes to brush his teeth, and Remus puts out some sleep shorts and a tank top. Sirius shakes his head.

“No, naked,” he says through toothpaste.

Remus smiles, and brushes his teeth before getting undressed.

Sirius sighs, glad to finally lay down.

“I’ve missed you,” Remus says nuzzling Sirius’ neck.

Sirius gathers Remus to him, holding him close. “I’m so glad you’ve moved in. This is so nice. Crazy, though, huh?”

“Yes, crazy. But good. Everything that’s happened is so good.”

Remus smiles, and Sirius rubs his back, and it’s quiet for a few minutes.

“I know you’re thinking about a poem,” Sirius says.

“I’m always thinking about a poem.”

“And?”

Remus is quiet.

“Please?” Sirius kisses his forehead, and Remus grins, turning onto his elbows.

He quotes the opening of a Tim Dlugos poem:

Which are the magic  
moments in ordinary time?  
All of them, for those who can see.  


And Sirius smiles at him, and they both think about how this started with breakfast, a walk, an extraordinary day for both them, which turned into so many ordinary ones after. And there is the possibility for more. Sirius wants it, and he’s fairly certain Remus does, too.

And if they’re careful, and kind, and brave, they’ll have it. Together.

**Author's Note:**

> Billy Collins' [Another Reason I Don't Keep A Gun In The House](https://www.lyrikline.org/en/poems/another-reason-why-i-dont-keep-gun-house-7146)  
> Audre Lorde's [Who Said It Was Simple](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42587/who-said-it-was-simple)  
> Tim Dlugos' [Ordinary Time](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/55131/ordinary-time)
> 
> As ever, you can find me on [Tumblr](https://justtoarguewithyou.tumblr.com/)


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